


Hunter X Hunter Collection

by Kaatyr



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Drabble, Gen, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatyr/pseuds/Kaatyr
Summary: A collection of Hunter X Hunter drabbles based on single word prompts. I'll list main characters and rating for individual drabbles in the chapter titles.
Kudos: 5





	1. Jumbled | Kurapika, Chrollo | G

Kurapika had thought that it would be an easy trade. An ancient artefact for a pair of scarlet eyes held by a collector willing to part with them if someone brought him the skull of an ancient monarch entombed in an area infested by dangerous monsters.

The perfect job for a Hunter, right?

Kurapika had been very wrong. Very wrong indeed.

Kurapika couldn’t believe that he was currently bent over a stone table, bare inches separating him from the person he hated most in the entire world.

“This one goes there.”

Chrollo sounded entirely too confident of his assertion for Kurapika’s liking. Kurapika reached out to put his hand over Chrollo’s, halting the slide of the stone tile over the surface of the table. His skin crawled at the sensation of the bandit’s skin beneath his own, but Kurapika’s anxiety demanded that he take immediate action.

“You shouldn’t just shove them around pointlessly,” Kurapika snapped. “You might set off a trap.”

Chrollo turned a half-disgusted, half-irritated face to him. Kurapika could see a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a thin cut near his left eyebrow. Kurapika envied him for managing to remain relatively unscathed so far. Kurapika was currently nursing a broken arm (not his dominant arm, thankfully). His clothes were torn and smudged with dirt. He’d unwittingly set off a few traps himself, hence his reluctance to allow Chrollo to take reckless chances. It would be just Kurapika’s luck to end up getting the worst of it.

“It goes there,” Chrollo said firmly. “Didn’t you read the inscription on that wall over there?” He lifted his hand from the tile to point at the wall to their left, indicating the symbols etched deeply into the surface, illuminated by the flickering light of two torches. Kurapika wiped his own grimy hand on his tabard, attempting to remove the tainted feeling that lingered on his palm.

“It’s written in Nankul,” Kurapika pointed out, bristling at Chrollo’s condescending tone. Not that he was being particularly polite, himself. Chrollo seemed to think that the whole situation was at least a little bit amusing, but Kurapika was furious. “I don’t know that language.” It galled him to have been so unprepared. He’d made sure to study the local language of the natives, but he hadn’t realised that those natives were settlers to the area. The truly native ancient people who had once inhabited the land and built these underground ruins had an entirely different language.

“I do,” Chrollo responded bluntly before pushing the tile into a slot on the table. There was an audible click. Kurapika tensed and glanced around the dim, stale room, but nothing seemed to have happened.

“That’s just the first one,” Chrollo said. “I doubt anything will happen until we arrange the rest.”

His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but it left no impression on Kurapika. The only saving grace in this was that Chrollo was as stuck as Kurapika was, and as such, had a vested interest to not screw it up. Both of their lives depended on it.

Kurapika swallowed, then coughed as he realised how dry his mouth was. He’d drank the last of his water a few hours ago. Chrollo had told him that there was likely to be a water source somewhere in this ancient temple, but they hadn’t yet found it. Kurapika hoped that they wouldn’t be here long enough for that to become a real concern.

He straightened his shoulders and joined Chrollo in examining the other tiles on the table, his fingers staining with dust as he shifted them carefully around. Each was etched with symbols that Kurapika couldn’t understand, though they certainly had some sort of meaning. Unfortunately, he’d have to rely on Chrollo to get them out of this room. That knowledge made him nauseous.

What would happen when they eventually made it out of the ancient temple and back to the surface? Could Kurapika stand to watch Chrollo walk away from him unscathed again? Would he even have enough strength remaining to kill the bandit leader? What if Chrollo decided to take the opportunity to rid himself of the chain assassin?

Kurapika couldn’t help but feel as though death stood by his side, wearing a dirty black trench coat and a smug smile.


	2. Leather | Kurapika, Leorio | T

“An anthropodermic binding?”

Leorio studied the caption beneath the image of the book in the pamphlet with a frown.

“What does that have to do with flesh trading. Isn’t it just a really old book?”

Kurapika sipped his tea, delaying his answer as Leorio pushed the pamphlet across the table to him. The pamphlet listed the items that would be auctioned off that night at a formal ball. Kurapika’s boss, Neon Nostrade, had her eye on a certain item: the book Leorio had just asked about. Leorio’s dark eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to work out why a flesh collector wanted a book, of all things. Kurapika wasn’t sure if he should enlighten Leorio. The answer wasn’t an easy one to swallow. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to actually touch the book.

But Leorio didn’t give him the option of demurring.

“Don’t tell me that your little boss has gotten bored with flesh collecting and has started on treasure hunting instead?”

“I’m afraid not,” Kurapika said morosely. It was true that Neon’s unsavoury hobby provided Kurapika with the perfect camouflage to seek out the Kurta eyes without arousing suspicion, but he couldn’t say that he was comfortable with it. As far as he was concerned, Neon, and those like her, were complicit in the massacre of his clan. The fact that they were willing to pay exorbitant amounts of money for body parts was what had created a market for the Spiders to exploit.

But, then again, maybe the Spiders were sick enough to have taken his clan’s eyes and lives anyway, market or no market.

“So, why does she want that book?” Leorio asked.

“It’s, uh…” Kurapika paused. “Do you really want to know?” he asked, teacup poised halfway to his mouth.

“Yeah, I want to know,” Leorio said dryly, completely missing the undertone in Kurapika’s voice. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Leorio looked relaxed in the casual atmosphere of the cafe, a world away from Kurapika’s concerns. Leorio fit into this place in a way that Kurapika felt that he himself did not. Kurapika’s neat suit was out-of-place among the customers. Even Leorio’s dark blue suit seemed less conspicuous, though that was probably because of his carefree and good-natured mood. Kurapika’s body was stiff with stress, his posture unnaturally rigid and straight.

Leorio’s problems seemed so simple to him, though Kurapika knew that wasn’t fair. Leorio had every right to complain about his courses and his workload, which were fiendish by anyone’s standards, but they were hardly life-threatening—unless Leorio was particularly stupid and overworked himself to the point of collapse.

Kurapika did not hold Leorio’s complaints against him. Truthfully, he was envious of Leorio and he did not want to burden his friend with his own problems—hence, his reluctance to reveal the book’s repulsive properties.

Still, Leorio had asked, and was waiting for an answer.

Reluctantly, Kurapika said, “You know that leather is usually made from animal skin, right?”

Leorio nodded.

“And some books are bound in leather?” Kurapika continued.

“Yes,” Leorio said, brows still knitted in confusion. He couldn’t yet see where Kurapika was heading with these questions, but he was trying to follow. The connection hadn’t sparked yet, though.

Kurapika let out a resigned sigh as he set his teacup down on the saucer with a clink. “This particular book was bound in leather made not from the skin of animals, but the skin of a human,” he said, dropping his voice to keep from being overheard by the other customers seated at the tables around them.

Leorio’s eyes widened, then his skin took on a sickly hue. He raised his hands, as if to ward off Kurapika. “Uh, yeah, I don’t want to know anything else about it,” he said.

“A doctor shouldn’t be so squeamish,” Kurapika needled, trying to push away his own discomfort by teasing Leorio a little.

“Books shouldn’t be bound in human skin,” Leorio countered, and Kurapika thought that was fair.


	3. Toys | Hisoka | G

Hisoka slid another card into place, his eyes fixed on his fragile tower of red and black suits as his thoughts drifted to his newest toys.

Having to go through the tedium of a second Hunter exam had been an inconvenience, but it had proved surprisingly fruitful. The majority of the candidates had, naturally, been useless fools—but for those four.

The young and exuberant Gon was undoubtably the most promising. He burned bright like a sun, and was sure to only grow brighter as he faced new challenges. The other boy, the light-haired Killua, was like the moon, a quiet but solid and competent presence. Now that he was out from under his overprotective older brother’s thumb, who knew what he was capable of achieving?

And the little Kurta teen; he was a shooting star. Kurapika was, by far, the most competent with his nen, and he possessed an incredible versatility—but Hisoka had the feeling that unless he joined the Spiders for real (which was impossible now), he would never face Kurapika at his best. That was a true shame. Like every other shooting star, Kurapika would shine brighter than any other, but for such a brief time. If the Spiders failed to kill him, his Emperor Time ability would.

As for the other, the wannabe doctor...

Hisoka slid another card into place, his eyes narrowed.

The doctor had potential; Hisoka had seen that for himself during the 287th Hunter Exam, but Leorio was far behind his companions. Rather than focusing on training his nen, Leorio had directed his energy into his studies. Hisoka’s hopes for him weren’t high at all.

Still, there was no telling what could happen in the future. Leorio was lagging at the moment, but events could change that.

—Especially with the Dark Continent looming large on their horizon.

A gust of wind swept in through the small window of the cabin and Hisoka’s so-carefully-constructed tower collapsed to the wooden floor. Hisoka gathered the cards up and patiently began the construction again.


	4. Bless | Kurapika | T

The church was dark and depressing. It had been abandoned years earlier, but was still in decent shape, making it a perfect place for Kurapika to keep his growing collection of scarlet eyes. They took pride of place, a shrine to the dead.

Kurapika spent hours sitting before them, trying to put names and faces to each glass container, to each glowing pair of eyes. The exercise was futile, as no pair contained any feature that would distinguish it from its brethren, nothing that could help Kurapika identify the former owner.

Once Kurapika acknowledged the pointlessness of that task (and turned his constantly-vibrating phone off), he began to study each pair of eyes, his stomach twisting as he wondered if he’d ever stared into them before—when they had been alive and vibrant. Filled with laughter or annoyance, filled with love or anger.

Kurapika said no prayers before the shrine. Instead, he nursed his grief and resentment, knowing that no gods and no angels cared about the fate of his people—or his own fate. Kurapika only believed in demons—those who wore human flesh and faces, those who valued nothing but their own desires.

Kurapika would not pray to the deities who had allowed his clan to be massacred. He would hold his prayers in his heart, and bring them into reality with his own chained hands.


End file.
